pineslog | ( february intro ) WELCOME TO THE PINES!

( february intro ) WELCOME TO THE PINES!

INTRODUCTION LOG

waking up

There was an accident. That's basically the only thing you know for certain. Maybe a car wreck - metal and broken glass everywhere, and the sirens and the screaming. Or maybe there was an explosion. Maybe your bike hit a rock and you careened uncontrollably off a mountain path. You can't can't quite make out the details, not who was at fault or why. Try as you might, the chaos is all you can remember.

It's also the last thing you remember from before you wake up here.

When you open your eyes, the accident is gone. Instead, you're in a hospital bed. You're sluggish, covered in a scattering of minor injuries you only vaguely remember getting, not to mention the vaguely-healed remnants of any wounds you might've had before.

It's a shame you won't be able to tell the difference between the two. Your memories are an indiscernible fog if not absent altogether, only a few standing out in your mind with any kind of certainty.

Whether or not the room's empty when you wake, it's not for long. Nurses bustle in, taking your vitals and asking your name and anything else you might remember. Welcome to Wayward Pines, they tell you. You'll make a full recovery here.

Much of what you say (especially anything unusual, anything about monsters or magic or outlandish technology) will earn placating speculation of head trauma “from the accident”. You'll be told to stay put, not to push yourself, and to wait for the doctor to clear you before you leave... Then you'll be left alone. The hospital's population is quadruple the usual, and you get the impression the nurses are working themselves ragged just running damage control. You can even leave your room without much fuss - whichever doctor or nurse intercepts you gets called away almost immediately to deal with something even more pressing.

Mingle, visit your fellow patients, even poke around for a few basic answers. Or maybe, maybe just stroll right on out the front door.

heading outside

Outside, the birds sing a joyful song, and though the air is awfully crisp to be wandering around in your hospital gown, the sky's as sunny as you've ever seen it. It's bright enough to make you squint for a moment before you feast your eyes on the quaint little town of Wayward Pines, though that might be in part because of the glare off the scattered patches of snow along the sides of the street.

Trees line the street at regular intervals, carefully manicured. Cars cruise by at a safe and respectable speed. Pedestrians spare you glances, some wary and some concerned.

This isn't even the picturesque city center, though a colorful nearby sign reads "Main Street" with an arrow pointing due south, followed in smaller font by a list of businesses you don't recognize and one that you might: Wayward Pines Police Department. Whether you asked for yourself or simply overheard, you've likely caught wind by now that all of your earthly possessions now lie with the Sheriff until you see fit to claim them.

Might as well head that way, right?

items reclaimed

So you've visited the Wayward Pines Police Department and reclaimed... well. Most of your stuff, anyway, though you can't quite remember what's missing. Best to put it out of mind, as you head down the steps toward the Main Street sidewalk. At the very least, pedestrians have stopped looking at you like you're sick or crazy. (Then again, depending on what you're wearing, maybe it's gotten worse.)

The sheriff also forked over what looks like the key to a house ("A cozy place to stay while you're here in town."), plus the address that it belongs to. You could check it out, see what kind of digs they're putting you up in.

Or you could stick around Main Street and sight-see a little. Also a perfectly viable option. Hell, maybe it'll jog your memory a little. A few of the shops do feel inexplicably familiar...

( ooc notes )

Welcome to the first newbie mingle log! We apologize for the minor delay.

This log is meant to cover characters' first day in Wayward Pines. For the most part, only the five memories detailed in your character's application are remembered throughout the duration of this log, although the first couple of false Wayward Pines memories might begin to surface (in those who've opted to utilize this mechanic) as the day wears on. These memories, as noted in the FAQ, feel very real and are accompanied by as much emotion or sentiment as a real memory would be.

Any questions about the log or its contents can be addressed to our FAQ or the intro log's designated Plurk.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Looks closed. [ Oh did you wish to be left alone to ponder the greater meanings and wonderings of the sandwiches you may or may not have eaten in times of yesteryear, Damon? Malia's giving a small smile over, eyeing the store again, taking in its apparent specialties.

She's been on her feet long enough to have gone to check out that house that's 'hers' to be 'comfortable' in. She took a shower, far neater than she's been the rest of the day and threw back on the only clothes that she has. An over-sized plaid button-up shirt and denim shorts. A nap might have been wise, especially for someone with apparent trauma of the head, but she can't rest. She goes back out, tossing her boots on too, gravitating toward Main Street, thinking that that's where she might see other people (peeking around houses would've been super creepy.)

She's walking down the sidewalk when she spots a guy in all black. Should that remind her of someone? No? She moves up to him, not trying to be quiet, and that's when she immediately spoke. Then, goes on, tone lighter than she feels. ]

You been here before? [ A nod at the store. She wants to know how many other people feel as disconnected from the town as she does. ]

It is closed.

[ he's still mustering up, or attempting to, anyway, a thought.

malia is the first person he didn't hear approach. she's light on her feet. he doesn't like missing someone's approach, but he's been joined, which means more forced conversation. then again, every conversation has led to some answers. not that this person seems to know him. he nods out of reflex. his brow furrows, moving to look at her now in her shirts and flannel, flannel that resembles the one he'd stolen earlier. what he's wearing now looks better, that's for sure. ]

With my brother. For lunch. It has good sandwiches. [ how does he know this, beats him. ] My memories seem to have reached the picking and choosing part of their day, preferring the more - mundane. [ but real answers, other family, friends - if people know he's a vampire. ] But, why would they give me anything to actually go on.

[ what would that be like ]

Then again, you're taking the word of a guy who can't remember anything. Else.

Uh-huh.

[ She mindlessly sways a teeny bit, crossing her hands over each other in front of herself, arms relaxed. If she'd known him, the answer back would've been a mocking duh -- that's what she meant. Yet alas, she musters some grace in talking to a stranger who she may be able to garner helpful information from.

She keeps a comfortable distance away, a choice made for her own comfort, even as she started to mirror how he was looking inside. There's a look of mystery to this guy that temporarily overshadows the weirdness of the situation she's (they're both?) in. Until her attention's stolen away by him speaking again.

Oh. Her lips go flat, lower lip protruding out before she cuts off an interruption. Family. Slowly nodding at the sandwich comment, her brows lift as she looks over to him, appreciation holding in her eyes at hearing him be so open. Some people would shut down and be scared, weepy, or whatever. She doesn't have time for that. ]

They have good sundaes. [...her face twists in displeasure. Ew, what. But, she realizes, the shop...does. She sighs, turning to face him completely. ] Your brother is here too? Have you seen him or do you just remember that he exists? [ Not a weird question at all. ] And, I can't remember anything that's important, either. It's pissing me off. [ As per grinding teeth. The Malia attempting to smile train has left its station in favor of her more sincere emotions. ]

And floats. [ seriously. he must go here... ] He's real. He was also in an accident. Maybe, we were in the accident together. [ not that he knows. he keeps back that he knows something very important to him, several something's, but nothing past that. ] His name's Stefan, does that ring any bells? [ maybe it will? but she's a kid? ]

Blunt forced trauma. [ he starts, or that's what they say. ] You too?

Edited 2017-02-03 03:47 (UTC)

Never had one. Just a sundae. [ A single sundae? Malia. She's outwardly distraught that a memory keeps trying to wiggle its way in, head shaking it off. She listens, intent on picking up on all the details. A quick nod at the mention of accidents. Her head starts to give an exceedingly slow shake as she works to see if she can place the name. ] No. It doesn't. I...can't remember anyone's name I know. Someone had to tell me mine. [ Embarrassing. ] What's yours? [ also, hey, she's an adult!

She nods firmly. ] Right. But I would remember if that happened. Wouldn't you? I woke up fine. Mostly. I couldn't have been in an accident. [ Being confused doesn't fully equate to having gone through an accident. ] What the hell is with this place and accidents? It's...weird.

Damon. I learned mine from my file. [ he's smart, he's in the hospital, admittance means you get a chart. ] You?

[ you're a child until proven otherwise. ] Maybe we hit each other. [ he's only half joking. ] Were you released into parental custody? [ seriously. child. ]

[ Damon. Stefan. Interesting names. Malia isn't much better, and she cares about a...oh...well she doesn't remember that name right now. Never mind. Be cool, memories. ] A nurse told me. [ Don't you dare imply she can't read. ] It's Malia.

[ She chuckles. That's funny. Why is that funny? Physical violence...it's humorous. Then, though, she makes a face of utter distaste at him. ] What? No. I left on my own. I can take care of myself. [ Physically feels like she can, knows she can. ] Plus, my family isn't even here. [ She supposes. She would have ran into them by now! ] Not that I need anyone to come collect me. [ Oh no, she took a step closer to him through that mini-tirade, settling back, playing it cool, shrugging her shoulders. ] What kinda question is that?

[ He wasn't. ] No ringing. Whaddya know.

[ He tosses Malia around in his mind. Nothing comes up, not like the taste of a good corned beef with mustard.

He also doesn't take a step back, never having a problem with confrontation. ]

I struck a nerve. [ he shouldn't enjoy that, but at heart, he does. he can't hide a taste of amusement. but that amusement turns to condescension on a dime. ] Look, kid, I don't know you, but, someone in this town does. Someone's worried. [ That doesn't track. ] You're young, you were in an accident. [ It's logic. ] Family members swarm upon learning their loved one-slash-daughter-slash-insert another noun here are in the hospital. My brother was also in an accident. That explains why he wasn't there when I woke up. What it doesn't explain is where your loved ones are, or why you're so sure, they're not here. In this town where you so enjoy your sundaes.

[ Good. Since while she can't remember being a patient (complete with a chart) before, there's a lingering sense of awareness she's associating with hospitals. Maybe because she woke up in one, and that's where her current station in life sort of began. She gives a quick nod, watching as he considers her name.

He's not a threat, but she sure as hell doesn't want to be called a child. ]

You don't even know how old I am. [ Because she does trololol. Why didn't you read the chart you didn't consider existing, Malia? ] But, fine. You're right. That is what family members do. Maybe it's just, maybe it [ an annoyed flit of her eyes at the store] looks like a place at...home. [ She's not buying that either, huffing and partially rolling her eyes. ] I'm sure they're not here because why wouldn't they be in the house that I got a key to, if they were? I can't even remember their names, just that anyone over the age of being able to babble out words know that everybody's got a mom, and a dad. [ And in her case, maybe a little sister. ] It isn't right that I can remember other stuff that I'd never be able to forget anyway [ werecoyote -- but don't you tempt amnesia, Malia ], but here I am. Not even knowing where my parents are. Or, maybe nobody's worried. [ who really knows. her teeth click together at that. ]

Do you really believe both of you, me too, were in accidents we can't remember? Or, can you remember yours? Can Stefan? [ She know Damon really isn't to blame for any of the above that she's spouted back, but the bluntness has come through and isn't stopping. ]

[ maybe nobody's worried. it's a small part of what she says, but how she says it, what might lie underneath it. he's allowed just a glimmer of a memory to overtake the strangeness of today. but, damon salvatore doesn't break poker face. not even if she touches something inside him he can't quite pinpoint. ]

No. We can't. [ that sure shuts his trap. ] And we weren't the only ones in accidents today. [ ok? fine, he's playing along. he will not apologize. ]

[ She doesn't have time to give him a look, if that tiny flare of of his could even be picked up. Probably not, and she's not trying to pick up on minute anything, anyway. She just wants answers that make any degree of sense.

There's a surge of her that wants to be smug when he admits that, but that immediately fades into tightly pressed lips that verge on frowning.] No, I know that. That's what it's so weird. Why can't anyone remember? It's like...some...episode of a stupid TV show or whatever. [ Gosh she's good at references. ] It's not normal when the same thing that's happening to everyone is like this, even if we're being told it's all okay. That makes it even worse. [ Does he care? She honestly can't tell. She gives a couple of careful glances around, realizing how vocal she's being about this. Whoops. ] But, hey, maybe I did just hit. my. head. [ Ah, sarcasm. ]

[ that clicks into place. don't discuss your other life. or past life. what had the sign he'd seen said? ]

My point. [ he made it. ]

[ Do you have friends where you come from, Damon? Do you? Seriously.

Malia crosses her arms over her chest, eyes narrowing as she analyzes...words that take no analysis but dammit she has words and thoughts that need to be heard. ]

Do you really believe that? That I hit my head and you and your, uh, brother -- [ IF THAT'S EVEN WHO HE REALLY IS, wake up, DAMON ] just...woke up after...un...remember-able [ what a word ] accidents?

[ and that's when he takes a step forward to bring a hand to her mouth. damon is nothing if not a man of action, without thinking and she's saying too much. if the sign near them is any indication. ]

Hey -- [ and she's stepping back, dodging him and trying to grab onto his hand, going for his wrist to hold onto, tight, if she's able ] don't. I want answers, not rules to follow. [ Not caring about them like the child she is. Read and disregard. Putting no thought into why the rules are there, and what happens if they're broken. ]

[ everything happens quickly for a vampire, and again, reflex follows. something about those signs, about the friendly sheriff, about everyone being in an unfortunate accident, about the mass amnesia, it triggers damon's next move. it's her wrist he catches, whirling her around and pressing her into the wall, lowering his voice. ] You may want answers, but you get rules to follow. We all do. I don't know if you've seen the signs around town, or if you can even read but they're clear. Concise. We all hit. Our. Heads.

[ he loosens his grip, to step back, not expecting her to retaliate ]

[ He's just a guy. A human, standing there in town. Insightful as either of them could be at first, until certain tones and ideas entered his voice. There's words for people like this...

To say she's not expecting what happens is a vast understatement. She's expected to be able to grab onto his wrist, maybe tug on it and remind him that, hello, it's not nice to go around trying to physically, literally, force anyone into being quiet. Malia doesn't get her way. She's taken off guard, no time to react, the strength he has behind him more than enough to hold her there while she gives a look of shock at how abruptly she's been pushed. And held. That he manages to whip her around, at all, that's a cause for question. She angrily glares, tries to push back a couple of times as he goes.

Moving with him when he finishes that lecture instead of staying where she is or smartly stepping to the side, she does look like she might try to hit him, hands in fists at her sides. ] Who says? A guy that can be killed? [Malia. No. There's too much impulse within her to let this go entirely. She honestly hasn't seen Damon bearing any blame anyway, so she'd rather not start a fight. Instead, without a pause, her eyes flash electric blue. ] I can take him, and I bet you could too. If you wanted to. Or is that breaking a rule too?

[ at first, he takes this as a threat, but her eyes flash and his chin comes up as he realizes how much he's underestimated this girl. ] Well, well, well. [ game recognizes game. ] Look who's got eyes of blue.

[ not that he knows what that means. ]

Maybe I could. And maybe whatever you are could. [ is she a vampire? do vampire's eyes go blue? he doesn't know. he hasn't seen himself in a mirror - not like he thinks he might look. ] Look, I don't like coloring inside the lines, apparently, but between the smiling sheriff and the harried doctors who instill next to little confidence, I don't think we have much of a choice.

[ Thank amnesia that she doesn't know why they're blue, and not gold. For all she knows, all werecoyotes' do exactly what hers do (and maybe she's right, they all seem pretty murderous.) Her eyebrows flit high, and there's the first glimmer into how smug she can get.] Yeah, I do. But you don't know what that means, do you? Even when you're someone who could take down a human. [ Blunt. So very pragmatically, she states ] You move really fast.

And what do you suggest? [ Other than the pre-established following the rules. ] Waiting and hoping we miraculously learn just by wanting to? Threats go a lot farther. [ Yeah, in getting you killed. ]

Newsflash, neither of us know what that means. We have no memories.

[ an outright lie on his part. ]

For all I know, I bench.

[ look who can be just as smug. ]

Ask me again when I remember something besides eating a sandwich.

[ will she reveal what she is? does she know? ]

Who would you threaten? Chuckles the neighborhood sheriff?

[ She immediately shakes her head, frowning in disagreement. Damon keeps talking, and her eyes give half a loll when he makes that comment about his physical capacity. How clever he must be. Then a sigh: right, maybe he does only remember the sandwiches at this moment in time. Who is she to doubt what all he does or doesn't remember, when her brain is foggy as hell?

To her credit, her brows do furrow when he asks her who she would threaten. There's a flare of doubt, of consideration, until that dissipates in a manner of two seconds. Welp. ] Yeah. Who else? And, newsflash [ how awkward this sounds, even mockingly, since she has likely never said it in her life ] but I know what it means. I remember. I wouldn't actually hurt him. I want him to stop pretending like he doesn't know more. [ A subdued, quiet, but still present snarl. ] I...care about where my family is. Since I guess I do live here [ maybe she's starting to mean it ], where are they? 'Cause if they're dead? I just need to know. Don't you and -- Stefan care about where your family is, too? [ Damon may be older than her, but not crazy far ahead. ]

[ she knows what she is. so that makes two of them. but damon doesn't indicate he does. he and his brother are what they are. no need to elaborate.

was that a growl?

she's asking too many questions. before this conversation, he had his doubts. everyone not in a gown is too cheerful, too friendly. and not helpful with any facts. ]

I know it's not fair to say that, it feels like we don't have any other family, but, touché. Maybe we're missing a second cousin. I don't know. But, don't you think you want to be on the sheriff's good side for when you have that little conversation? [ any of this getting through to her? ]

[ Given how much she doesn't know about herself? Malia can buy into someone else having just as few answers.

You saw nothing: nah, she'll do it again at some point.

She sighs, grumbles quietly when he turns her attempt at persuading him via the family angle right on its head and dismisses it. From a lack of memory. Surely. They're two different people, from different places (...probably...), so of course they're processing this in different fashions. Malia's being driven by the memory of her family, wondering where they are, any consideration of those friends of hers she knows she has taking a back seat. She sighs again, arms crossing once more. ] Well. I guess. [ Her eyes narrow. ] He wasn't willing to listen today. [ She gives a look away, down over the street near them. ] But...maybe you gotta try to figure out how to get on someone's good side. [ Golly gee it finally is! ]

More helpful than being on their bad, not that I much mind being on someone's bad side, but we're not talking about me. Sorry about the [ he waves a hand, inciting violence, basically ] In my experience, my experience being today, being frantic and threatening gets you nowhere in this town.

I wasn't -- [ oh wait he's apologizing and isn't referring directly to her behavior, toward him. her head shakes quickly ] It's okay. I wasn't scared. And I wasn't threatening you...in case it seemed like I was. [ Just showin' him what's up, because flashing blue eyes when you're toting around brown on the regular is so totally descriptive and zero percent alarmingly vague. ]

Did you get a key to a house here, too? [ She knows she mentioned this earlier, and she's working to draw parallels. Plus, it's good to talk about the town they now call home, right? No rule breaking about that. ]

( february intro ) WELCOME TO THE PINES!

lagomarchino's

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gosh that icon, his face. it's great.

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